


Quirky

by That_One_Yaoi_Kid



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Bilingual! Carl, Carl is a Little Shit, Helpful Carl, Ignorant Negan, M/M, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-14
Updated: 2017-06-14
Packaged: 2018-11-13 00:02:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11172795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/That_One_Yaoi_Kid/pseuds/That_One_Yaoi_Kid
Summary: Carl still fluently speaks French and a little bit of Italian, learned from his mother, as she should tell him stories in the foreign languages before he would sleep. Now it’s time his foreign tongue is revealed to his peers.





	Quirky

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CryptidBae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CryptidBae/gifts).



> For ImagineCegan, thank you so much for the prompt bro! I love bilingual! Carl!

During their weekly visit, a rather shorter, middle-aged man ran through the open gate of Alexandria. Instinctively, anyone who had guns raised them, waiting for the ‘okay’ to fire. But Negan never gave the order, instead he had two men grab the rabid intruder and throw him on his knees in front of the boss. 

 

Carl isn’t far, and his hand twitches slightly, itching for his knife. But that instinct switches to sympathy when the man opens his mouth.

 

“Hell you think ‘ya doin’, buddy? Just ‘gonna barge into our little party like you were invited?!” Negan asked, raising his voice near the end and Carl bit his lip, waiting for the man to reply.

 

For a man his size, it seemed his nose was the largest part of him. He wasn’t the most attractive, his face being carved by the knife of starvation as his dirtied and sweaty t-shirt and overalls were like curtains on him. His fingers were so slender, Carl might’ve guessed the man replaced them with toothpicks. 

 

Barefoot and trembling at Negan’s feet, the man’s tongue was tied, stuttering and slurring. Negan rolled his eyes, swinging Lucille dangerously close to the man’s head, “Speak when you’re spoken to.” He hummed with disturbing joy.

 

Shaking his head to will away the tears collecting in his eyes, the man suddenly exclaims, “ Pitié! Pitié! Monsieur, je veux dire aucun mal!” 

 

The frenchman flinches violently when Negan cuts him a look, swinging Lucille again. Carl’s jaw hangs open, and he inhales deeply, suddenly concerned. He looks between the defenseless frenchman on the pavement and the merciless leader above him. 

 

“The fuck you say?” Negan grumbles, perching Lucille on his shoulder when the man opens his mouth again. “Pardonnez-moi, j'ai seulement besoin de nourriture.” His voice is unsteady, and he’s trembling like a leaf. 

 

Everyone, Alexandrians and Saviors alike are whispering among each other like it’s some old high school movie again, and Carl has to compose himself so he won’t lash out on them.

 

Negan licks his lips slowly, turning around to face the crowd collected behind him to give them a confused look, a  _ really?  _ look. Reminding Carl the same look he shot him when Olivia started crying.

 

“Anyone know what the  _ fuck  _ this guy is sayin’?!” Negan calls, looking around as everyone shakes their head but one.

 

Carl groans internally, striding over to where the man lies, trembling and merely shitting himself. The teenager can feel all eyes on him, and he’s not super okay with that. When Carl stops in front of the frenchman, the man cautiously lifts his head, wiping away the tears.

 

Shakily, the man asks, “Pardonne-moi?”

 

Carl swallows loudly, scraping all the courage he has to bring the words to his lips. After a minute, Carl clears his throat and nods. “Je ne suis pas l'ennemi. De quoi avez-vous besoin, monsieur?”

The man’s eyes light up like a kid’s on Christmas day, as  cliché as it is. “Parlez français, oui?”

 

Carl nods again, “Je m'appelle Carl, et je crois que nous avons ce dont vous avez besoin si la nourriture est ce que vous demandez.”

The man shakes his frantically, licking his lips as his mouth began to water. 

 

Carl turns to the crowd, looking straight into Negan’s eyes. “He needs food, and he speaks French. And make one ‘pardon my French’ joke and I will gouge your eyes out.” 

 

A few of Negan’s most  _ loyal  _ goons step forward to defend their boss, but the man in charge stops them. “Settle down, boys. I like where this is going. Arat, go fetch the man some cans and a case of beer for the road!” Negan demands, leaning back and laughing. 

 

Arat nods and reluctantly moves to collect the supplies, and while she searches Negan cuts Carl a look. “But what did I say about number one,” Negan purposely holds up his middle finger, “covering up that badass scar on your pretty face? And number two,” he adds a digit, “threatening me?”

 

Carl rolls his one good eye, “I really hope you aren’t expecting me to answer even  _ one  _ of those.” The teen returns the middle finger to emphasize.

 

Negan smirks, “Speak when you’re spoken to.”

 

Carl happily returns the smirk as Negan drops his hand, Carl keeps his up. “Parlez quand on vous parle.”

 

Negan takes his bottom lip between his teeth, “Damn, that is such a turn on, kid. I don’t even know what the fuck you just said!”

 

Arat has returned by that point and she hands over a six-pack of  _ Coor’s Light  _ and a basket of canned vegetables and fruit. And when the man opens his mouth to speak, Arat rudely cuts him off. “Don’t thank me, I don’t speak Italian.”

 

The man’s rotting teeth click when he shuts his mouth, and Carl spins on his heel to defend him. “It’s not Italian, you illiterate fuck.”

 

Arat rolls her eyes and moves away from the two, and Carl turns his attention the frenchman. “Elle est très ignorante, je m'excuse. Profitez de votre nourriture, espérons que cela vous suffira.”

 

The man nods frantically, “Merci Monsieur. Je m'appelle Quentin, et je me souviendrai pour toujours de toi, Carl.” And with that, the skinny man named Quentin scurries off, disappearing behind the treeline beyond the gate.

 

Carl takes a deep breathe before turning back. “Next time you have a situation like that, hold onto them until you see me again. Do not be cruel because they are vulnerable.”

 

Negan gives a genuine appreciative smile. “Yes,  _ madame. _ ” He gives the call to roll out, and his men follow without further question, but they talk amongst themselves and it further pisses Carl off.

 

Negan stays planted where he is though, and waits until every Savior is loaded up to speak up. “Kid, sometime you  _ ‘gotta  _ teach me French!” 

 

Carl gives a sarcastic smile, crossing his arms over his chest. “You are an ignorant asshole.  _ Mais mon ignorant connard, néanmoins.” _

\-- --

Translations:

 

Pity! Pity! Sir, I mean no harm! -  _ Pitié! Pitié! Monsieur, je veux dire aucun mal! _

 

 

Forgive me, I only need food. -  _ Pardonnez-moi, j'ai seulement besoin de nourriture.  _

 

Forgive Me -  _ Pardonne-moi? _

 

I am not the enemy. What do you need, sir? -  _ Je ne suis pas l'ennemi. De quoi avez-vous besoin, monsieur? _

 

 

Speak French, yes? _ \- Parlez français, oui? _

 

My name is Carl, and I think we have what you need if the food is what you ask. -  _ Je m'appelle Carl, et je crois que nous avons ce dont vous avez besoin si la nourriture est ce que vous demandez. _

 

Speak when you are spoken to. -  _ Parlez quand on vous parle. _

 

 

She is very ignorant, I apologize. Enjoy your food, hopefully it will suffice -  _ Elle est très ignorante, je m'excuse. Profitez de votre nourriture, espérons que cela vous suffira. _

 

 

Thank you sir. My name is Quentin, and I will always remember you, Carl. -  _ Merci Monsieur. Je m'appelle Quentin, et je me souviendrai pour toujours de toi, Carl. _

 

But my ignorant asshole, nevertheless. _ \- Mais mon ignorant connard, néanmoins. _


End file.
